Regret
by Chilly Academic IV
Summary: It was his fault. And he knew it was his fault. Mello x Matt, yaoi, oneshot


**Regret**

**Death Note**

**Rating: M / R**

**Mello x Matt; Matt x Mello**

**Warnings: Spoilers, cursing and language, yaoi, gore (?), slight AU**

**Please Note: This is the unbeta'd version of my fanfiction. As I am currently away from my home I am unable to get in touch with my editor and therefore can catch only the errors I can identify myself. If anyone is interested is posing as my beta for this story, drop me an email. Thank you. -KJ**

A/N: Another one shot spurned out of work's boredom. I may be convinced to continue it if we get enough good reviews. But I really do not foresee there being much that I could continue on, but then again it can never hurt. That's motivation for reviews. And I never get reviews. That makes me sad. –sad- ;-;

-

It all boiled down to one concept and one concept alone.

Matt's death could be blamed no one but him. It was all his fault that his best friend had been gunned down for a cause he doubted the redhead had even supported. All his fault.

Of course, at time like these, people often said that it was best to move on, tell him to grow up and realize that death was death and he would never see him again.

But to hell with those bastards, let them rot in an early grave. They didn't understand, they damn well couldn't. They've not felt the loss of their best friend—and even… lover—at the expense of them, so painful that the blood might as well have been spilled by their very hands. Murdered for a cause he did not even believe in, truly… only for the love of his boss, the man who he had committed innumerable sins with, the man whom he had damned himself with. The man who was his very world.

Sitting alone in this empty apartment, he gazed at the game systems which caused a mass of wires to writhe in the floor. He saw the emptied packages of batteries, and chargers for various handheld gaming platforms absorbing the energy from the wall socket. The table was littered also with emptied cigarette packs and dried-up lighters, the butts of the addicting cancer-sticks that the redhead had so loved still cluttering the black ashtray. For some reason, he had not yet had the heart to unplug the gaming paraphernalia, not had the urge to dispose of the empty packagings, not cleaned the ashtray, but then again it had been only an hour since he had disappeared from this life. He almost felt as though if he could preserve everything the way it was, if he could only freeze time in this one moment, the male would return to him, beaming as he walked through that door with a convenience store bag hanging at his elbow containing six bars of exquisite chocolate and a carton of his favorite smokes.

He'd sworn he wouldn't get attached that night.

He'd lied through his fucking teeth.

His slender fingers with nails hued to obsidian tangled in his already mussed hair. Cobalt eyes were shut tight and the tried to block out the cold world. Secretly his heart was listening for the sound of the door opening; secretly his body awaited that comforting touch from behind him, alerting him that everything was alright, that he was here, that he wasn't dead.

How?

How could he simply go and die like that?

Of course the answer was simple, but it was not one that came easily to him at this moment. The redhead gamer had been human and such, all humans must at some point die. But no. This couldn't be his time, it couldn't. He couldn't just be gunned down on the street, he had to go out in some sort of glorified way—gunned down, yes, but while firing his own pistol at a police officer, while taking aim to fire his sniper rifle at Kira himself… It had to be a grand way to go out. That was just Matt.

He remembered.

And he knew damn well that he would remember in an hour, tomorrow, next year, next decade, every day of his life. Every second until the end of time. Every damn instant that flashed by would be a memoir of him.

He never had been the mushy type, but today had changed him, had dug deep, deep inside him and a slow infestation of obsession, snaking its way like a spider's venom through every inch, every nerve, every part of his body.

'Grow up.'

'Move on.'

'It's not your fault.'

'You couldn't have saved him.'

The mess on the tabletop was furthered as those pale hands slammed onto the scratched mahogany top. An empty package from a set of batteries tumbled off the end of the table.

Enough of hating himself!

He had to think of some way to get revenge. Revenge.

"Matt… Why?"

What was this? His face felt suddenly wet and his eyes hurt somewhat. He felt moisture fall from his face and splash onto his hand as he stared down, dark cobalt gemstones void of emotion. Were these.. tears? He could taste salt faintly on his lips. These had to be tears.

But he didn't cry. He knew himself better than anyone. And he didn't cry. Never.

Perhaps these were tears of anger.

Anger over what?

At himself, at the redhead's murderer? At the redhead himself for dying?

He slumped down at his table, resting his forehead against the hard surface.

And he let himself cry.

"Matt."

-

Was he dreaming?

The last thing he could recall was loosing consciousness over the table, mourning Matt's death… and yet, now…now he lay here with the brunette safely asleep in his arms.

"Matt?"

He could feel the redhead stir slightly, and heard his false name murmured softly in response, followed by a sleepy, "What do you want?"

Offering no reply, he leaned down and pressed his lips against those that had moved softly, noting that his lips no longer tasted of salt or any other taste. All he could taste was Matt. All he could feel was Matt. All that existed in this world was he and Matt and this bed.

Something the blonde opted to put to good use, immediately pressing the redhead down against the crimson hued sheets.

"Haa… Me—"

The name was silenced as he slid his tongue inside the parted lips, running his cool hands along the bare chest. He noted now that both men were naked (had they already had sex? An ache in a rather unmentionable region of his body was enough to say yes and that he had been catcher in that instance) and that this seemed to be his perfect opportunity.

He was impatient and thus took very little time to cut directly to the chase.

Every gasp, ever movement, every time he head breathy words slip from between the lips of the male who had willingly given into submission, willingly giving in to everything the now dominant male had wanted to do.

Matt. Matt here, with him, in his arms. His heart beat and his eyes could see. His voice could be heard by living ears. Matt. Matt.

"Matt…"

No preparation this time—The redhead was used to playing catcher. He knew what to expect, and Mello observed with calm satisfaction as his back arched and his neck tilted back, mouth opened in a wordless cry of pleasure.

"… You're still mine. My bitch."

No emotion out of the ordinary would be allowed tonight. No exceptions to the rule of roughness and utter dominance associated with the very entity of the blonde male.

And yet it seemed different.

-

How long had time gone on, he wondered?

How long had they been there, in one another's arms, even after they both came, crying the other's name in a needy, merciless fashion.

"Matt…"

"Mmmhm?" He had noted the sleepiness in the other's voice, felt his entity begin to edge into the land of Nod.

"Aren't you… dead?" An odd question to ask, but…

"Yes…" this left the blonde dumbfounded. "And so are you."

"What? No! After the explosion, and Takada dying, I went back to out apartment…"

"I was wondering what took you so long," the redhead murmured, gaazing up into cobalt eyes. "You died with Takada in that explosion."

"But how…"

"We're dead, Mello."

Fin

A/N: I think this had potential but kind of went Keeeeersplt at the end. I dunno. I lost motivation and kind of rushed it. I don't know. I was really lazy on the sex, haha. But enjoy, anyone who reads this.

If this didn't SUCK BAWLS (not the energy drink) I'd add it to my contest entries. Haha. X.o

They were both awfully OOC. Ewwies.

"_I'll live my own way." – Mello, ch.61_


End file.
